Lost
by Toxi Kist
Summary: Romano doesn't hate his brother. Quite the opposite to the contrary belief of others. He just never had a reason or a purpose to show how much he cared... or a reason. Now, with a life on the line, how much honesty and truth behind the elder Italian's actions towards his younger brother will be revealed... and who will be the one who needs saving in the end?
1. Introduction

"Ve, fratello! We're here early," a certain northern Italian chirped as he waved his hands about in an excited manner as they stepped out of their bright red Lamborghini they had parked outside of the Meeting Center in France.

The elder of the two, the southern Italian, rolled his eyes as he pocketed his car keys before fiddling with the buttons on his expensive cream-colored suit a certain Spaniard had given him for his birthday the previous year, "I know that dammit," he replied with a scowl, "I don't want to get here after that damned pervert to have him put his hands all over us like he does to all those other bastardos."

The younger of the two huffed at the elder's insult towards one of his friends. "France isn't that bad though." He whined, "Can't you try to get along with him once, he really is a nice person to be around!"

"Spend as much time around the tomato bastard when he was with him and macho potato bastard's brother other and you'd know a lot differently Veneziano."

It was quite obvious to both the Italian brothers that the younger really had no chance of winning this particular argument, so the elder couldn't stop the smirk from forming on his lips when the other gave a sigh of defeat and said nothing more on the subject.

"So mean…" the younger said quietly, more to himself than the elder.

Sigh. There he was, always trying to find something positive in it, "If I didn't care about people calling me mean before Veneziano, what the hell made you think I would suddenly just start caring?" he stated in a rather bored, but still slightly irritated tone, hoping his little brother wasn't as stupid as to not catch the sarcasm that laced his response.

When the younger Italian continued his silence, the elder nodded. He wasn't actually sure if the other got it, but he could always hope.

That was around the point he decided to walk up the steps to actually enter the building, ignoring the look he received from the guard standing at the door as he opened it. Looking back, he saw his brother walking at a slower pace, a slightly subdued look crossing his features.

In all honesty, the elder hated when his brother looked like that; it just made him feel all wrong on the inside when he did. Of course, no one would know he felt like that either.

With a sigh, he watched him walk by in a sluggish manner, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Oi, Veneziano, I'm sorry dammit. I didn't mean the shit I said about that French bastard." He mumbled, hoping the other would take that.

The younger did: his face lit up like the elder had just told him that Christmas was coming early this year. He immediately launched himself at his brother, hugging him tightly with that familiar optimistic smile plastered to his lips, "Grazie fratello!" he beamed happily.

The elder was just glad his younger brother didn't make a comment about him calling the Frenchman a bastard, because he didn't have anything to say after that, aside maybe cussing his brother out like he usually did.

Casting a glare to the guards, the southern Italian pushed the door open to the building and walked in, holding the door open for his brother to enter as well. He received a bubbly thank you from his brother, which he turned by grumbling, "No problem, don't mention it. Ever," under his breath, not really loud enough for the other to hear – if he was even listening for it as the younger was busily humming something to himself at that particular moment.

Whatever.

The elder didn't care as long as it kept the northerner from whining and complaining. Which, the younger was going to do regardless, just not around him at that particular moment.

Which was fine; the Southerner didn't want to deal with a crybaby at that point. Or any point really, because his younger brother had this tendency to cry for too long over the stupidest reasons he had ever heard of.

The interior of the building was grand and quite fancy looking, and the Southerner couldn't help but wonder if they were actually at the meeting place, or some cliché version of the ball from the Cinderella series, because it looked like a ballroom party could and would be held there.

"Che cazzo.." he mumbled as they walked to the stairs that were decorated, the rails coveted in silk ribbons and such, "Is he throwing a fucking party or are we actually having the damned meeting here?"

As he ascended the steps with his brother, he realized the higher they got with each step, the more decorated the place seemed to become.

Alright, that French bastard had a serious problem.

Part of the elder was just begging him to start tearing everything down just so he could take pleasure in the Frenchman's horror when he saw the ruined estate, but the nagging voice that stated his little brother would get upset made him change his mind –

"-Lovi! Lovi, Luddy and Kiku are here!"

Well, that was the quickest way to pull the elder out of his thought. Hearing his brother use that stupid nickname on him was enough to irk him.

"It's _Lovino_ dammit!" he hissed at his brother, who puffed out his lower lip in pouty response.

"Still so mean…"

The Southerner, now known to be named Lovino, rolled his eyes, crossing his arms and casting the younger a glare before looking up. Sure enough – much to his dismay – Lovino's gaze locked on the sight of the large German chatting with the smaller Asian man beside him in a rather serious sort of way.

He hadn't even seen another car outside when he arrived, so how the hell did they get there before them? Oh, fuck it, Lovino didn't want to know, and he had no intention of asking how and why, because he was not going to be dealing with them.

His little brother on the other hand; the Northerner was bouncing up and down with giddy excitement.

"Oh, oh! Fratello, can I go over and talk to my friends?" he asked, looking up at Lovino with big puppy-dog-like eyes.

"Fuck no." was Lovino's immediate response.

"Fratello!"

"I will not have you going anywhere near that macho potato-sucking bastard!" he snapped at him angrily.

He watched his brother's face scrunch up and his eyes grow all watery, and he inwardly – and outwardly – groaned, resisting the urge to smack his forehead at the sight of his little brother acting like such a baby sometimes.

"Alright fine – but if that stupid potato tries anything I'm going to kick his ass!" he stated, crossing his arms and giving his brother a look.

The younger beamed up at him with a bright - somewhat idiotic - smile that made Lovino inwardly gag at how clueless the other could be sometimes. "Jus- just hurry up and go to your stupid potato bastard friend before I change my mind," he muttered as he looked away with an irritated huff.

North seemed to leap with joy and hugged Lovino at this, which only made the Southern Italian flush heavily with embarrassment.

"Grazie mille! I'll see you at the meeting when it starts then, fratello!" the younger said with joy before rushing off to greet his two best friends.

Lovino felt open discomfort at this, but all he could do was mutter, "Yeah yeah... whatever dammit..." before begrudgingly heading off to the meeting room to wait for other nations to arrive.

The feeling of discomfort only seemed to linger. Or, maybe a better sense would be forboding, but he honestly wasn't sure why as he opened the door to the meeting room and went inside.


	2. Chapter 1

Lovino was sitting in his chair with a look of impatience written across his face as America, commonly referred to as Alfred or Al more or less, had just finished taking role of all present countries that had attended the world conference with ease. Almost everyone was present, excluding Germany, referred to as Ludwig, Japan, who on certain occasion preferred the name Kiku, and the most infamous albino that nobody really wanted to put up with, who was off busily flaunting his bragging rights where no one wanted to hear. It had been something about a rock, but Lovino did not know nor care –neither did the other countries, but that was beside the point – there was another nation who was also not present in the room, but Lovino couldn't quite remember what his name was. Not that it mattered; almost everyone forgot who he was from time to time, if not all the time. Most just didn't know who the mysterious extra nation was.

Aside from that dilemma, everyone else was seated in accordance; superpowers sat at or nearest to the edges, and the other nations filtered the seats from there. Lovino was seated beside an empty chair on his right where his younger brother, North Italy – who preferred and told everyone to call him Feliciano or Feli – should have been residing, closest to France, or Francis. Lovino referred to him as the perverted bastard and refused to sit by him under any means.

Ever.

To the left of the southern Italian sat a rather optimistic Spaniard who went by the name Antonio. The Spaniard looked like he was gazing out at nothing, judging from the way he turned and held a surprised look to find the Italian gazing at him… ok staring him down, same thing. Lovino scowled at the idiotic smile he received.

At the same time, England, or Arthur – Alfred referred to him as Artie or Iggy for some unexplainable reason – had jumped up from his chair and whacked Francis with the stack of papers clenched tightly in his fist, which almost made Lovino jump because if Francis fell over, he would most likely topple the chair and land on _him._

Lovino did not want this. Not at all.

Unfortunately, Francis had also jumped up after being hit, glaring at Arthur and rubbing his now slightly red cheek, "How dare you hit me with such cheap parchment!" he declared, his voice lacking venom and sounding oddly musical despite his obvious dissatisfaction with the Brit's actions against him.

It was most likely because this type of thing was common for them, from what Lovino had heard of their background history together anyhow.

"You bloody frog! You don't know what you're talking about!" Arthur hissed back icily as his thick brows narrowed considerably.

His arm was raised ready to swat Francis with the papers again. It was most definitely not the best way to go about a meeting, but there wasn't anything Lovino was willing to do about it; Arthur scared him to death.

Alfred laughed heartedly at the banter going between the two, "Whoa guys chill. It hasn't even been five minutes and you're already trying to bite each other's heads off," that made him laugh even more. He was obviously amused with the whole situation.

_That dumbass_, Lovino thought as he rolled his eyes with irritation.

This silent thought was proved when both Arthur and Francis looked to Alfred for a good ten heart beats as if they were wondering whether or not to take him seriously. Then they were at each other's throats, arguing again as Arthur proceeded to slap Francis repeatedly with his papers, whilst the Frenchman was attempting to dodge and wrap his fingers around the Brit's wrist to restrain him somehow.

This was going nowhere fast; Lovino bitterly gazed about the room at the other nations just to see if anything interesting was going on; sadly the other countries only sat in awkward silence watching Arthur and Francis go at it. It seemed they were all debating on actually stopping the two idiots, but no one dared make a move to try.

That was usually Ludwig's job, but the large brawny German was not here at the moment, so it didn't seem like anyone would do anything… Well, maybe Basch. That Swiss had a thing for shooting off that gun of his if his temper was ignited.

Before any of that could happen though; the sound of the conference room doors opened, causing Lovino to crane his neck around to see who was entering.

Speak of the devil! Ludwig and Kiku entered the room, the large German stopping dead in his tracks as he stared at the Brit and Frenchman going at it. The smaller Asian stood beside him and stayed quiet. The room itself seemed to suddenly become coated in an eerie silence, albeit Arthur and Francis still fighting with that stack of papers.

"It's about damn time they showed up," the Italian muttered to himself irritably, gazing – ok he was glaring at Ludwig but that's beside the point – over to see where his little brother was.

Feliciano was not with them.

He frowned. That couldn't be right. He for sure remembered seeing his little brother wander off with them long before the meeting had started. So where could he have possibly gone?

Unless…

_He fucking ditched me at a meeting! _He thought angrily, balling his hand into a tight fist, _And that idiota didn't even tell me! Che cazzo, I'm going to kick his ass when I see him later._

Lovino was so busy seething that he almost didn't notice the sound of Ludwig's voice boom in rage until it happened.

"Do you two insist on having a meaningless fight because I just so happened to arrive a few minutes late to the meeting?" Ludwig noted as he pinched the bridge of his nose to somehow calm himself, or whatever he pinched his nose for, "Mein _gott. _Both of you just shut up and let us get the meeting on with now."

By the time Ludwig had finished telling them off, Francis had his fingers locked around Arthur's throat and Arthur was preparing the papers for what felt like the hundredth time in the past two-n-a-half minutes. They looked at the aggravated German nation, then each other, then around the room at the other countries.

"…. He's right," Francis said after a moment. He released the English nation in his grasp and sat down swiftly and smoothly, hoping to maintain any of the pride and grace he had left.

Arthur followed suit with a huff of indignation.

In the awkward silence, Kiku nodded beside him and did that traditional bow thing he always did. Feliciano had once told Lovino why the small Asian did that, but the elder Italian hadn't really been listening to his brother's explanation as they had been out in the city of Rome and he had been distracted when the cluster of cute girls had walked by.

"Sumimasen, I did not mean to arrive so late," Kiku said quietly before quickly making his way across the room to his seat.

The hell did sumi- sumee- whatever that word was, mean? Lovino didn't know. He didn't care either, since he was still silently seething as the large German walked to his seat as well, which involved passing the Italian.

In all honesty, Lovino did silently ponder tripping Ludwig as he walked past as means to spite both him and Feliciano, who would undoubtedly throw a fit if he learned his brother did something so mean to his best friend.

_But it serves him right for ditching me here!_ Lovino thought with a smirk of amusement.

Ludwig did walk past him, stopping momentarily as Lovino was distracted in his deviously mean thoughts. A surprised look passed over his features for a second before he shook it off and headed to his own empty chair beside Roderich, the renowned Austrian pianist nation who was currently residing in his home for some unexplainable reason.

There was a pause after this, one in which no one uttered a single word or phrase. This was rare, and Lovino actually felt some discomfort at the uneasy silence that fluttered about the conference room. Sure, he thought it was annoying when Arthur and Francis fought, or when anyone fought really, but at least there was something for him to hear – and ignore.

He contemplated saying something to break the silence, but the loud voice of Alfred beat him to it rather quickly.

"So are there any problems we need to figure out? New or old stuff, but we have a _lot_ of old stuff to worry about," there was emphasis on that last part, and he grinned as Arthur jumped up immediately and glared at him.

"I don't recall anyone asking you to bring it up," Arthur hissed.

Well, this was one thing Lovino was definitely not going to listen to. Sighing as the two launched themselves into a meaningless argument; he tugged out his cellphone and scrolled through his messages for a bit. Most of them were from Antonio, in a mixture of both Spanish and Italian from the words Lovino had taught his companion. It was ridiculously hard to make out what he wrote at times, but the elder Italian never got around to telling the other to stop. Aside from those messages, there really wasn't anything else.

So he decided to text Feliciano and tell him off.

'Where the hell are you!?' He texted his brother quickly, 'You don't fucking ditch a meeting and not tell me. Either get your ass back here or get home or I swear I will toss all your stupid pasta out the window! I mean it this time!'

After sending the message with haste, Lovino looked up at the meeting room around him… which had basically fallen into complete and utter chaos while he hadn't been paying attention.

Arthur and Alfred seemed to have dragged both Francis and… who was that guy by the French bastard? Lovino could have sworn he had seen his face somewhere before, just couldn't quite put his finger on it just yet. Oh well, he'd remember later.

Ludwig had already abandoned his chair and was storming over to break up the fight, and Lovino rolled his eyes at the German as he came close to passing again.

"If Feliciano was here I would have tripped you already." He muttered loud enough for the other nation to hear. "He had to ditch after meeting with you, macho potato."

On any normal occasion, Ludwig would have stopped, sighed and asked him why he was always like that, and Lovino would simply tell him it was because he was a potato-sucking bastard, it was what he deserved for occupying Rome – which was partially true, Lovino just had no intention of explaining more of the actual reasons held Germans in a state of open detest – like he did every other time.

This time: Ludwig stopped completely and gazed at him in surprise. "Met with me? I have not seen Feliciano at all today." He replied, looking at the elder Italian with a seriously intimidating expression that unnerved him.

Lovino scoffed, feeling nervous. "D-don't act stupid, I saw him walk off with you, bastardo. He was fucking happy to do so." He grumbled, shifting his gaze away because the stoic blue eyes of the German were just too damn intimidating.

Ludwig shook his head, looking more offended as if Lovino had offended him in some way. "I assure you, sent Feliciano a message this morning telling him that Kiku and I would be late to the conference due to a meeting our bosses were having at my place. Kiku himself can validate it."

"Bullshit." Lovino stated bluntly. "I fucking – we fucking saw you and Kiku in the building. He walked off with you and I went into the conference room to wait."

"I only arrived minutes ago-"

"Bull_-shit._"

Ludwig sighed and just shook his head, mumbling something about the elder Italian not listening, as well as something about calling Feliciano after the meeting was over to see where he was.

Lovino just shook his head and rested his chin in his palm, feeling annoyed at the large German. He knew what he fucking saw, and no one was going to tell him otherwise! Especially that damned potato bastard.

Tugging out his cellphone, Lovino checked to see what kind of messages his brother had sent him. To his disbelief, Feliciano hadn't sent him one response. The nerve! Lovino frigidly went about rapidly texting his brother while grinding his teeth together in frustration.

'I'm serious right now Feliciano, where are you?'

Lovino hit send. And waited for a response.


	3. Chapter 2

By the time the world meeting had come to an end at its sluggishly slow pace, Lovino found himself trudging from the conference room at a rather sluggish pace, almost as if he didn't want to leave. In truth, he was distracted by his cellphone and the many text messages he was now sending his brother. Who, still, would not grant him an answer.

Lovino had a short fuse. Feliciano knew it, Antonio knew it, hell, everyone knew it, seeing as he was always quick to snap at people without waiting for them to say something in their own defense.

It was just Lovino. People got used to it.

But the bigger issue was that his brother was not answering any of the damn text messages that he was ceaselessly sending him to get a response, and that was grinding his nerves to the point where he believed that he would kill his brother when he saw him again. God this was pissing him off!

Well, he would give Feliciano a piece of his mind when he saw him again. Yeah, that was a pleasant thought as he exited the conference room still sending and awaiting any form of a message or reply.

Lovino had been so preoccupied with his cellphone that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a familiar voice lightly whispered in his ear, "Oh mi tomate~!"

"Ch-chigi!" Lovino yelped as he turned and glared at Antonio, who was standing there with a happy smile glued to his face. "What the fuck is wrong with you!" he hissed as he held his hand over his ear in a protective way. Antonio was so weird sometimes!

The country gave a smile still, obviously unaffected by the Italian's outburst – he was used to Lovino lashing out at him that way. "Ah, lo siento mi tomate. Lo siento." He replied with a light hearted laugh.

"D-Don't fucking scare me like that again d-dammit." Lovino muttered as he looked away, face flushed with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

He could hear Antonio laugh beside him, despite the fact that he was looking away, "Alright, I will try not to scare you again Lovi."

The only thing to be caught after that was Lovino muttering obscenities under his breath while Antonio bit back the urge to chuckle at his actions. This was how it usually was between the two; amazing that anyone could call them friends really.

"So, are you coming over to help me in the fields today?" Antonio asked after Lovino was just about done mumbling to himself, poking the Italian's cheeks with curiosity.

Lovino put his hands on his hips and let out an annoyed huff. "No, I have to go find where my idiot brother ran off too," he stated flatly, "He's probably been kidnapped by the potato bastard and is locked in his basement waiting for that macho jerk to do some weird shit to him."

"I… don't quite believe that little Feli's friends would do that to him."

"You obviously don't know what that macho potato is capable of."

Antonio didn't know quite how to respond to this, so he remained silent. Which was fine with Lovino, who was now checking his phone to see if he had received any sort of text back.

Nothing.

He sighed once more as he pocketed his phone, "Che cazzo, I just wish that damned potato sucking bastardo would tell me what he's done with my brother."

"I haven't done anything."

The voice was gruff and masculine; both Lovino and Antonio turned as they saw Ludwig and Kiku standing there. Ludwig had a mixture of irritation and concern written in his features, whilst Kiku just gazed at them with that trademark expression devoid of any emotion.

Lovino narrowed his eyes at the large German, "Che cosa? Are you here to give my brother back?"

Ludwig shook his head, folding his arms as he gazed down at Lovino with serious look, "I haven't seen Feliciano since yesterday afternoon during training. He ran off somewhere and I couldn't find him, then later called me and told me he was at home with you. We were scheduled to train again today to make up for what he was avoiding yesterday."

"Then he left with you before the meeting and ditched."

The sound of Ludwig's sigh ground his nerves together, "I told you, I have yet to see Feliciano today. I assumed he would be arriving with you, but I have yet to see him."

"How many times do I have to tell you that he arrived here with me dammit? We saw you, and he skipped off all fucking ditzy and happy to see your sorry ass."

Antonio placed a hand on Lovino's shoulder and squeezed it, "Lovino…" he said softly. "You were one of the first to get here, did you see Ludwig's car outside when you first got here? Did Feli get any calls before you got here?"

This caused Lovino to falter, inwardly hissing as his supposed best friend seemed to be taking the German's side. Fucking hell Antonio!?

"… We didn't see any other cars when he got here, but I swear that I did see that macho potato bastard and… Kiku, when we first got here. He really didn't have any kind of grudge against the persona of Japan, plus, it just felt wrong to act mean towards him.

That said persona had chosen this particular moment to speak up, though his voice was still quiet and calm, so Lovino had to strain to hear him, "Gomen, but Ludwig-san is not lying…" he said calmly, "He did indeed attempt to call Feli-kun ten minutes before the meeting started, but we did not receive an answer so we assumed that he was busy. Maybe this was our mistake."

"That's because my idiot brother left with you half an hour before the meeting started. I thought he would be begging for a fucking gelato or something – or whatever! I bet he's at home sitting around and doing nothing because he fucking ditched!"

"Lovi-"

"No! Cazzo voi bastardo!" he hissed before storming off, not wanting to be anywhere near the Spaniard and Co. any longer than he had to.

_Tch, whatever. I'll find Feliciano and kick his ass later_, he thought bitterly to himself as he made his way out of the building as fast as his walking pace could possibly take him – because there was absolutely _no _possible way that he would run in that suit. It would cost him a lot of money to go get resized for a new suit.

Prada was expensive. And Gucci would not be cheap either.

On that note, he would worry about something like that when one of his actual suits was ruined. For now, he was relieved nothing was actually wrong as he made his way over to his car.

Well, it was more of their car – their being Feliciano's and Lovino's – but that was only because the Lamborghini had been commandeered, the reasoning being told was, "reckless driving," which was inaccurate. Everyone else just drove too damn slow on the road was all. (Keep in mind that Feliciano was incredibly reckless, and Lovino had a serious issue with road raging at times. Neither one would admit that anytime soon.) So the Ferrari would have to suffice for right now.

It was a black convertible that Lovino normally only used for… special and specific jobs, but it was all that they had left since the Fiat was in the shop, having broken down yet again. That dealer must have done something to that car.

Lovino would most likely have to deal with that at another time, since he really needed to get home and give his brother a piece of his-

"Lovi!"

He flinched as he turned to see the Spaniard rushing over to his car with a serious look plastered to his face. What the fuck did that tomato bastardo want now? He stood by the black car, folding his arms and waiting impatiently as Antonio came to a stop a few feet from him, panting and trying to regain his breath.

"What the fuck do you want now?" he asked, "I'm getting ready to go home and you fucking chase me outside, hurry up and tell me what you need dammit."

It took a few more moments, but Antonio was able to regain air in his lungs – finally – and he stood up, straightening himself out. He tugged a thick brown package out from underneath his jacket shirt of his suit… wait, how the fuck did he put that in there and no one was able to tell!?

That's beside the point, he handed it to Lovino, "My boss would like you to deliver this to your boss." He said with an embarrassed smile. "He said it was important."

This irked Lovino greatly, "Why the fuck can't he get someone from his office to fucking deliver this for him. I'm busy." He stated bluntly, his temper slowly igniting. Technically it already was, but there's no need to go into detail about that.

Before Antonio could give him the answer however, the elder Italian silenced him with the reply, "On second thought, don't tell me. I don't care what that damn boss of yours has to say." He nodded and then unlocked his car, sliding into the driver's seat smoothly. He glanced up at his friend with a pointed look, "Tell that idiota boss of yours that the package will get there eventually."

Antonio could only nod, "Sí, give me a call when you see Feli, ok?"

"Yeah, whatever dammit."

And with that, Lovino simply turned on the ignition and booked it out of there before any more words could be shared.

* * *

Ludwig was pacing the floor of the spare room in the conference center, leaving poor Kik and the others who had come to watch him with curious, troubled faces.

"How long has he been doing this?" Elizaveta, the personification of Hungary, whispered to the small Asian man, worry evident in her voice.

Kiku thought about it for a moment, before quietly responding, "Ludwig-san has been like this since Feli-kun's brother left the meeting a few minutes ago. "

Elizaveta bit her lip, "Have you tried calling Feliciano?"

"Hai," he said quietly back to her, his voice dripping with apprehension that was not seen in his expressionless features. That was one of the many quirks of this Japanese personification – aside from his ability to read the atmosphere, it was also impossible to make out just what he was thinking.

Roderich on the other hand, was trying to stop Ludwig from pacing before he ended up walking a hole in the carpeted floor completely, and then have to pay for ruining the floors in the first place because of his stressful situation.

"Mein gott Ludwig you fool, you need to calm down." The Austrian scolded the younger nation, looking annoyed that he was even partaking in acting in such an indigenous manner.

The others in the room could hear his frustration when he spoke, "How am I supposed to calm down Roderich, when I was just accused of kidnapping my best friend and his bruder is most likely going to break into my house looking for him?" Ludwig noted.

Roderich was about to give him a reply, but then Ludwig gave him look and he simply sighed. "Alright, try calling him again then. Maybe he is at your house and he's talking to that troublesome brother of yours."

There was emphasis on the word troublesome, but Ludwig shook it off as he pulled out his cellphone, "…well, alright," he said as he dialed the bubbly Italian's number and held the phone up to his ear.

It rang…

And rang…

And continued to ring…

'Mein gott, pick up Feliciano,' he thought, feeling a little desperate to hear something. Anything would be good right now.

Roderich, Elizaveta, and Kiku watched on in silence, all silently hoping that there would be something on the other end of the line. Time seemed to stretch in an incredibly sluggish pace that was extremely unsettling.

Ludwig held his breath for just a moment longer. Then there was a click.

Silence became his undoubted answer.


End file.
